Second Time Around
by RevSue
Summary: Written by TWO Sue's ... We decided to furnish Joseph & Clarisse with somewhat different backgrounds, but it's still Joseph & Clarisse in the end!
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Sue and I don't own any of these characters, since Princess Diaries 1 & 2, and its characters are the property of Disney, Buena Vista, and Meg Cabot, and so unfortunately we aren't making any money from this work of fiction._

_Summary: This started out as an idea based on "What if Joseph had been married before and had lost his wife when Clarisse lost Rupert?" ... and Sue and I took it from there ... _

Second Time Around

Clarisse looked once more into her mirror to make sure that when Olivia had renewed the makeup, the tiny stress lines around her eyes were well hidden. She picked up her gloves and took a deep breath before smiling at her ladies' maids and stepping out of her room. Tonight was the first time she had been willing to leave the palace since hearing of Philippe's accident last week. But today she and Rupert had received word that their son had been taken off the critically-injured list, and Rupert had insisted they go out to celebrate. A world-famous Genovian singer was doing a show at the Opera House that evening, and Rupert wanted to go.

"Besides," Rupert had encouraged his wife that afternoon, "she IS almost family!"

"I beg your pardon?" Clarisse had stared at him as if he were a lunatic. "What do you mean, FAMILY?"

"Well, you DO remember she is married to Joe, didn't you?"

"Joe?" Clarisse had repeated blankly.

Rupert had rolled his eyes. "Clarisse, my darling, you are going to have to start paying more attention to the people who are important to us ... the ones who uphold the monarchy. Joe! Our Head of Security!"

"Oh! Oh, of course. Joseph." Clarisse had never even THOUGHT of Joseph as 'Joe'. Using nicknames or shortened names was not something she was accustomed to doing, although when she thought about it, she HAD heard Joseph referred to frequently as 'Joe'. It didn't fit for her, though. However, she had dismissed the thought almost immediately. How ridiculous, to even be thinking about a man's name and whether or not it 'fit'! "Yes, that's right. Joseph and ... Nan, isn't that her 'real' name? I know her stage name is Anna. Didn't they get married shortly after we did?"

Grinning, Rupert had nodded. "You DO pay attention, don't you? Must be just aging, that's why you momentarily forgot. Plus, Nan IS on tour a lot, and Joe is busy with us. You have to wonder what kind of marriage they have. However, I've heard they're madly in love with each other still, even after all these years."

Clarisse still felt the same sting now as she had three hours previously when Rupert had made the comment. Rupert hadn't MEANT to hurt her, she was sure, but nonetheless, he had. She loved Rupert as a very, very dear friend, but she had never been IN love with him. The saving consolation was that he had never been in love with her, either. Somehow Clarisse could think of nothing worse than a one-sided love. But then, what did she know about love? She had never BEEN in love! Not even puppy love! It was a rather sad thing for someone over sixty to have to admit, which is why she had never ever admitted it aloud to anyone. After all, she was the Queen of Genovia! She had been married to Rupert for over forty years, and they had two grown sons. How could she NOT have been in love with Rupert? And yet ... she wasn't, and she never had been.

"Your Majesty?"

Pulled back to the present, Clarisse abruptly tamped down on her thoughts and, smiling automatically, looked at the young security guard nervously watching her. "Is King Rupert waiting?"

"Yes, your Majesty. He is in the car already."

"Then I suppose we must hasten," and she swept away at once.

In the back of the limousine, Clarisse noted Rupert's distraction, and wondered at it. He wasn't looking very well, she realized, and decided that their son's accident had obviously taken its toll on him. Perhaps she should have Rupert see a doctor. His breathing seemed shallow and quick, and somewhat strained. Yet they had received good news today! Was Rupert keeping something from her? She was about to question him, when they arrived at their destination and the moment was lost. Inside the Opera House, Prime Minister Motaz and his wife were waiting for them. The four made their way to the Royal Box, with Joseph and two other security guards trailing the entourage.

As she entered, Clarisse hesitated by Joseph's side, and said quietly to him, "I am looking forward to hearing your wife, Joseph. I must admit I have never heard her sing before."

"Then, if you will allow me to say it, you're in for a treat, Your Majesty," Joseph smiled at her. "Nan has a lovely voice."

Clarisse nodded, noticing the love shining in the man's eyes as he spoke of his wife. "So I've heard." She moved on and sat in her place beside Rupert, who looked over at her. Again Clarisse was surprised that it hurt to have seen love in Joseph's eyes for his wife, and only, well, fondness at best, in Rupert's eyes when he looked at her.

"I've heard Nan often," Rupert was saying to Sebastian Motaz. "Quite remarkable! And she is so unassuming. Full of the devil, of course, and ready for a joke at any moment, but her passion is her music."

Idly wondering when her husband could have heard Nan, let alone met her and come to know her as well as it seemed he did, Clarisse leaned forward and spoke briefly with Sebastian's wife, Sheila. Then the music started, and they all settled back in their seats. Nan, or Anna as she was billed, came out to the accompaniment of loud applause, and began to sing. Her voice truly was spectacular, and she had an easy, fun-loving manner about her that soon had everyone in the theatre charmed by her.

At intermission, Rupert was on his feet in an instant. "I'm going to go backstage to speak with Nan," he announced.

Clarisse began to rise, but he waved her back down. "I'll go alone ... I'll just take Franz. Joe and Albert can remain on duty here with you and the Motaz'. I'll be back before intermission is over, naturally."

"Wouldn't it be better to take Joseph?" Clarisse asked, perplexed, but Rupert shook his head decisively.

"No, he can see her later tonight! It's MY turn, now." With that puzzling comment, he was gone, with Franz as his faithful shadow.

While she was chatting with Sheila and Sebastian, Clarisse was surreptitiously studying Joseph. His face was impassive as he stood by the door, and only the movement of his eyes showed any sign of life. She wondered what he thought of Rupert going to see HIS wife. Chuckling inwardly at the ludicrous thought that perhaps Rupert and Nan were, well, having an affair, Clarisse turned her full attention back to Sebastian and Sheila.

Suddenly there was a flurry at the door and a curiously-shaken Franz slipped in. He held a quick, whispered conference with Joseph and Albert, then came a bitten-off exclamation from Joseph who disappeared out the door. Sebastian stopped talking and turned to Franz, as did Sheila and Clarisse. Franz stumbled up to Clarisse and sank to his knee before her.

"Your Majesty ..." he began, tears forming in his eyes and spilling down his white cheeks. His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat before being able to continue.

The colour drained from her face, and Clarisse felt as though her heart had stopped. Something terrible had happened! Oh, God ... Philippe had had a relapse! "Is it ... is it Philippe?" she asked in an unsteady voice.

Her relief when Franz shook his head sadly was brief. When Franz delivered the message that King Rupert was dead, Clarisse shook her head in denial, not even hearing Sebastian and Sheila exclaim in horror. "No! No, he CAN'T be! He just went to talk to ..."

"It appears that he had a ... heart attack. The police have been called. I'm ... I'm sorry, your Majesty. King Rupert, may he rest in peace, is ... dead."

Clarisse shook, then a scream bubbled up in her throat and she choked it back fiercely. "NO!" she cried again. The Opera House faded from her consciousness. She only had one thought. RUPERT! Not Rupert! It was not possible! She could not have been widowed like this! Oh, RUPERT! Feeling blackness coming in to envelope her, Clarisse didn't bother questioning any more. She welcomed the oblivion.

O o O o O o

The next few days passed by in a blur for Clarisse. Her moods swung from grief to rage to disbelief, then back again. Her son Pierre was by her side constantly, and she clung to him. Philippe, still gravely injured, lay in a hospital far away and unable to even communicate. Clarisse wondered what she had ever done to have deserved such tragedies devastating her life. The third day, when her emotions seemed to have subsided to a dull acceptance, Pierre said quietly that the Chief of Police, the Coroner and the Prime Minister all had been asking to speak with her ... and with Joseph. Together.

"Joseph?" Clarisse put a hand to her throbbing temple, and frowned slightly in bewilderment. "Why Joseph?"

After a moment's hesitation, Pierre said, "Joseph's wife died the same night as Father. She apparently was found at the bottom of a flight of stairs in the Opera House. All details of her death and Father's have been suppressed pending an investigation. So far, both deaths have been treated as completely separate events by the media ... but there are some possible connections which the Coroner and police which to discuss with you and Joseph."

Clarisse closed her eyes. Would this never end? Her hand reached out blindly to Pierre. "You'll stay with me?"

"If you wish, of course I will. But are you sure? Mother, I must warn you ... I have heard some whispers, and, well ... I, too, believe the deaths are linked. You may not want me to know all the ..."

Her eyes flew open and she stared at him, disbelieving. "You mean ... MURDER?"

"No!" Pierre was vehement. "No, not murder. But possibly ..." his voice sank and he flushed a little. This WAS his mother he was telling, and it was about his late father, and it was confoundedly hard! "... adultery," he finished in a low voice.

Clarisse froze as the word echoed in her head. Adultery? Rupert ... and Nan? She instinctively rejected the thought, but instantly many other tiny but niggling perceptions clamoured for her attention. Rupert had spoken of Nan as if he had known her well. He had wanted to see her alone that night. He had admitted that he had never truly loved Clarisse ... and he had admitted to having been in love with someone else before their arranged marriage had taken place. Nan? Had Rupert loved Nan all these years? Surely not!

"Mother? Shall I tell Sebastian that you will see them?" Pierre's voice seemed to come from a long, long way off.

Not allowing herself to droop nor to give in to her despair, Clarisse straightened up and tried to clear her head. "I will see Sebastian alone first, because SOMEONE must continue to rule Genovia until Philippe is fully recovered and able to ascend the throne. Unless you are going to change your mind, it would appear that I am to be that someone. Your father's funeral must be planned. Only AFTER the funeral will I meet with the others. That length of time should put to rest the rumours. Then perhaps we will be able to sift the truth out from beneath all the conjectures. Whatever the police or the coroner ... need ... to complete their investigation, will, of course be provided ... but I will not see them at this time."

Pierre nodded slowly. "I think you are right, Mother ... for what it is worth. Long live Queen Clarisse!"

Clarisse smiled sadly, acknowledging his approval, and fervently wishing her younger son could have taken his rightful place as King of Genovia. Until the accident, he had been READY to be king ... and now he was fighting for his own life. She sighed. Pierre put his arms around her gently. "I know, Mother. I know. Philippe SHOULD be King. We must trust in God that what SHOULD be, WILL be."

Clarisse leaned into his strength for a moment, then stiffened her resolve. "Thank you, Pierre. Please, stay with me when Sebastian comes. We must plan the ... the funeral. Oh, the Archbishop ..."

"I will have him informed that we will see him as soon as he is available today."

"Thank you."

Accordingly, Queen Clarisse, Prince Pierre and Prime Minister Motaz met and subsequently arranged for Queen Clarisse to take her place as the Head of State in Genovia at a special meeting of Parliament in two weeks' time. The Archbishop arrived and the foursome planned the dates for the Lying-in-State. The morning after his death, King Rupert's body had been taken to the chapel at the winter castle in the mountains, as that is where he had been born. The day after tomorrow, the coffin would be brought by train to the station in Pyrus, then would be carried in a ceremonial procession to the Cathedral Hall where the late king would lie in state for the next four days, allowing all those who desired to do so to line up and file past the coffin to pay their respects. The funeral service would follow in the Genovian Cathedral in exactly one week's time. King Rupert would be buried in the Renaldi family vault in King Chevalier's Memorial Chapel in Pyrus.

By the time the arrangements had been concluded, Clarisse was trembling. She had no idea whether or not she would be able to be all that a Genovian queen SHOULD be. What if she failed? What if ...? Pierre, sensing her mood, excused the two of them from the meeting and took her back to her rooms where he handed her over to her ladies' maids to cosset for the rest of the day.

It wasn't until the following day that Clarisse remembered Pierre telling her that Joseph's wife had died the same night as Rupert. Not having left her suite much at all, Clarisse hadn't missed seeing Joseph in the palace, nor had she listened to any news on radio or television, knowing she couldn't bear to hear anything about Rupert at the time. Now, however, she was feeling a little more in control of her emotions; for the time being, anyway. Calling Olivia to her, she rather awkwardly asked the other woman about Anna.

"Oh, your Majesty!" Olivia shook her head in distress. "That was such an awful accident! And to think it happened just when ... well, naturally, because of the circumstances in Genovia, she was buried quietly this morning in a private service. I've heard that her agent has already set up a scholarship in her name, and Joseph is planning to honour her memory some point in the future, after King ... after the state fun ... after, well, after." Olivia flushed miserably, hating to say anything about Clarisse's loss in case the queen broke down again.

Clarisse was somewhat grateful for Olivia's consideration, but felt she was stronger than the other woman gave her credit for. Of course, Olivia thought she was prostrate from grief because of losing the love of her life. Already Clarisse was feeling stirrings of anger towards Rupert for even the MENTION of possible adultery, so she said almost coldly, "By circumstances, you mean King Rupert's death and funeral?"

"Yes, your Majesty," whispered Olivia.

"But Anna was famous! She deserves more than ..."

"Not more than King Rupert, may he rest in peace!" Olivia said, firmly. "Nothing should detract from his blessed memory in the next week! You'll see, your Majesty, he won't be forgotten any time soon."

Clarisse lowered her head. No, he wouldn't be forgotten. She had already heard the expression "may he rest in peace" enough times, but she had the feeling she would hear it a lot more in the days ahead. For Rupert's father, King Steffan, the saying had lasted for almost four years! If Rupert HAD been having an affair with Nan, by God, Clarisse sincerely hoped he would NEVER rest in peace! Then, shocked by her savage thoughts, she resolved to calm herself, and asked Olivia to please bring her some tea and summon Prince Pierre.

O o O o O o to be continued


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

Joseph was relieved when finally everyone left his small house after the quiet funeral. It had been a horrendous few days, and he had had no sleep. Even now, he half hoped that Nan's death had been just a nightmare brought on by the stress of losing the King of Genovia. Yet, standing alone in the vacant rooms, knowing that Nan would never come whirling into the house, laughing and teasing him until he could not conceive of anything other than making love to her with all his heart, mind and body, he ached. Never again would he hear her clear, musical diction as she chatted about inconsequential events in their lives. Never again would he hear her calling him 'Joey' in the throaty whisper she reserved for the times she was bent on seducing him. Never again would he hear Nan gasping "Oh, God, Joe, I DO love you!" as she arched against him in ecstasy.

His beloved wife of forty-one years was no more. Grief overwhelmed him suddenly. How could he continue to live? What did he have left? How would he survive the tragedy? Knowing that it had been a freak accident ate away at his mind. A slip of the foot and she had plunged down the stairs to her death. Possibly she had opened the door to her dressing room in the Opera House, seen the King's body on the floor, and panicked. Running for help, she had tragically been killed. Perhaps she had NEVER seen the King, but had been on her way to her loving husband who had informed her that afternoon that he would be attending her performance with the King and Queen.

How could someone so vital, so fun and loving and sweet and earthy ...? Hot tears were coursing unheeded down Joseph's cheeks now. "Nan!" he choked out into the stillness and emptiness of the house. "Oh, Nan! What am I to do now?"

Forgotten were the fierce arguments they had had about his dedication to his work and the long hours at the palace, disagreements she would end by hitting such a high note for such a long time that neither could think anymore and the fight would dissolve into laughter then be made up in bed. Forgotten were the times Nan had bitterly told him he cared more for the Queen's security than his own wife's triumphant music tours. Forgotten as well was the anguish he had felt the day after their wedding when Nan had admitted candidly that she had married him on the rebound, since she couldn't have the man she had really wanted. Oh, she had denied that ever since, and he had come to believe her denial and to feel sure of her love for HIM, but still ... the words lingered somewhere in the depths of his mind.

Joseph's tears dried. Where had that last thought come from? He HAD forgotten ... but Nan had indeed admitted it then! He was convinced he had turned her love for another to himself, he was sure of her devotion to him ... wasn't he? Had he been wrong to insist so often that he stay to guard the royal family rather than become a silent background figure at Nan's concerts? No. No, he still believed in his commitment to his work. And speaking of which, with the King's body being brought back to Pyrus tomorrow afternoon, he really should make the effort to see Queen Clarisse in the morning, to extend his condolences, and to ask what he could do to help in this trying time. Besides, he needed to get out of this empty house which was feeling more and more like a tomb.

After a sleepless night where Joseph spent hours sitting on the floor looking at pictures of his life with Nan and listening to her CD's endlessly repeating, he dragged himself into the shower, then forced himself to drive to the palace. He was unsure what he was going to say to the Queen, but he wanted to check in with the security team anyway, so if he couldn't think of anything intelligent, he would just give Queen Clarisse his sympathies and that would be that. She wouldn't want to have to visit much with him, either, he was certain. Yes, she had been, well, friendly enough over the years, but she had never appeared to have been interested in him personally or in his personal life, which is how it should have been, as he reminded himself quickly. The Queen had her own duties and responsibilities just as he had his, and his were to make sure that the entire royal family could carry out their work and their lives without a care for their personal safety. The details of Joseph's work thus far had been dealt with by King Rupert, so some changes were inevitable. Joseph suddenly felt a small glimmer of anticipation. Perhaps, now that he would be working more closely with Queen Clarisse, he would be able to implement some of the changes in the security system he had previously suggested and which King Rupert had vetoed!

When Joseph stepped into the palace, he was instantly aware of the difference in the atmosphere. It was very obvious that a monarch had died. There were no flowers around, and usually the palace abounded in bouquets and vases. The maids and guards spoke in hushed tones, and no one smiled. Joseph was greeted with a handshake and a sympathetic murmur by the guard at the door, and more handshakes and voiced sympathies when he reached the security office. He thanked his co-workers gravely, then asked about the arrangements for the next week. In moments he was as engrossed in his work as if he had never been away, his loneliness forgotten for the moment.

It was over an hour later before he straightened up and checked his watch. This was the time Queen Clarisse usually had a tea tray delivered to her suite. "I am going to speak with the Queen," he said quietly to Albert.

"She was asking about you this morning," Albert nodded.

Joseph was surprised, then concerned. "Oh dear, I should have come sooner."

"No, I don't think so," Albert said. "She asked if anyone had gone to ... well, had seen you yesterday."

Joseph shook Albert's hand again. "I want to thank you for coming, Albert. It meant a lot to me to see you there."

Albert grinned, looking a little embarrassed. "Franz wanted to come with me, but ... well ... he was working."

Nodding, Joseph said, "I expected that. It's a very busy time for us all."

"Well, it IS busy, but Joe, if you don't feel up to ..."

"I'm fine with it, Albert, really. Besides, to tell you the truth, I am not used to sitting home alone ... this way, I don't have to think about Nan ... you know?"

Albert nodded. "But remember, anytime ..."

"Thanks, Albert. I'll go on up to the Queen, then check back here again. Maybe the Portuguese government will have decided how many officials will be coming by that time!"

"I think you're dreaming," Albert grimaced. "But yes, we're hearing hourly the numbers from all over the world."

When a sombre Priscilla admitted Joseph to the Queen's suite, he realized anew that it was the Queen who was responsible for the flowers in the palace. Usually her suite was a veritable bower. Now the only greenery in sight was a small, struggling green plant on one window. Then he looked at Queen Clarisse, and he swallowed hard. She was obviously trying to be so brave, but her face was white, her eyes betrayed the fact that she had been crying a great deal, she looked tired in spite of the expert makeup, and the hand she held out to him was shaking slightly.

"Joseph," she said in a low, husky voice.

"Your Majesty," he took her hand and bent to kiss it lightly. "I wish to offer my condolen ..."

"Oh, Joseph, how could you think of ME when you have suffered the same loss?" she asked, her eyes filling with tears which she blinked back fiercely. "We should have offered you some support yesterday ..."

"Albert was there, your Majesty," Joseph said, unconsciously keeping her hand in his. He was astounded that she was thinking of him at a time like this. "I did not expect to see anyone ..."

"I'm glad you were not completely ignored by those of us in the palace."

There was a short, uncomfortable silence. The two stood facing each other, but unable to look each other directly in the eye. Clarisse was feeling rather awkward, thinking about what Pierre had told her of some of the rumours circulating, and she wondered if Joseph had heard similar comments. She had no intentions of asking, however.

Then a knock came at the door, and in that moment, they both realized that Joseph was still holding her hand. He dropped it quickly and she pulled back slightly as Olivia entered with the tea tray. The two ladies' maids urged them both to have a cup of tea, and poured two cups.

Although he wasn't fond of the beverage, Joseph perched on the edge of a chair, trying to hold the delicate china cup without either burning his fingers or breaking the tiny handle right off. This was NOT conducive to easing his discomfort! The Queen, of course, had no problems with the dainty cup.

"I understand Prince Pierre is here with you," Joseph said, desperately taking too large a gulp of the hot tea and burning his tongue. He hoped the pain would give him something else to think about other than how ill at ease he was feeling.

"Yes," Clarisse smiled rather introspectively. "I don't know how I would have coped without him. There's no substitute for having family when there is a dea... oh, Joseph, I can't believe I SAID that! I'm so terribly sorry!" Her face was stricken. She had known neither Joseph nor his wife had any family, and however distraught she might be, she should never have said something so cruel.

Joseph put his cup carefully down on the table by the chair and stood up. He tried to smile. "Why be sorry, your Majesty? It is the truth. If you'll excuse me, I really must go over some of the security arrangements ..."

The Queen stood as well, poised almost as if she wanted to take his arm and stop him from leaving. "Joseph, wait. There really is no need for you to work for the next while. I ... You should take some time off, to help you adjust to this change in your ..."

"I need to work," he said hoarsely. "Please. I need something to do to keep my mind off ... well, you know. To be honest, your Majesty, the house seems terribly empty and I am very happy to be given a chance to get out of it, even for a short time."

Clarisse studied him briefly. "Joseph," she said, rather hesitantly, "I ... if you are feeling anything at all like I am, you are probably not sleeping very well. Actually, you look exhausted. I DO understand your need to be doing something routine, something useful. Your expertise will be greatly appreciated with all the security arrangements which have to be made now with the extra people coming for ... coming next week, so I've been thinking that perhaps you might consider taking over the suite here at the palace which has traditionally been reserved for the Head of Security. I know you never used it before, but right now, well ... would you consider it? There is always someone around here if you need company, yet there is solitude when necessary."

Joseph looked down for a moment, hiding the surprise that he was sure was on his face at her words. She had noticed he was tired? But then, hadn't he noticed the faint air of exhaustion hanging about her? He considered the offer. Frankly, he had forgotten about the suite. Now that she had mentioned it, it seemed like the ideal solution. He need not be alone if he wished company. From the corner of his eye, he caught Olivia's slight nod, and the strange thought shot through his mind that she might be expressing what she had hinted at many times since her arrival at the palace. She had never pretended otherwise, actually. She was attracted to him, and, before finding out that he was happily married, she had shown her interest blatantly. Having had no desire whatsoever in starting anything with the woman, Joseph had arranged to have Albert mention Joseph's wife in Olivia's hearing, and the blatant invitations had stopped, if not the subtle smiles.

Shocked to find himself thinking such things about another woman just the day after burying his wife, Joseph suddenly realized he had not answered the Queen's question. He looked up and saw her blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Joseph swallowed. He had never really noticed before just how beautiful her eyes were! He swallowed again, and inwardly shook himself. Enough of this! Clearing his throat, he said slowly, "I ... I would be grateful for the suite, your Majesty."

"I'm glad," the Queen said simply, holding out her hand again. "Once more, Joseph, we are both grieving. I hope we can be of some comfort to each other."

Joseph took her hand and kissed it gently, then released it before straightening. "I am yours to command, your Majesty."

She smiled faintly at him, then turned away and held out her cup to Olivia to refill. Joseph let himself out of her suite, and, after moving down the hall out of sight of the guards at her door, he leaned against the wall and shook his head. Truly, things seemed to be working out, and after such tragedy! He marvelled at the Queen's strength, knowing she was still trying to cope with the accident which had so gravely injured the Crown Prince. Well, if there was anything at all that he could do to ease her way, he would most certainly do it! She was a remarkable woman.

Joseph went home immediately to gather some of his belongings, then returned to the palace before the noon meal. That afternoon, he co-ordinated the procession of the king's body from the Pyrus train station to the Cathedral Hall, but at Albert's insistence, he remained in the palace with the Queen and Prince Pierre who would not be seen in public until the day of the State funeral. It wasn't until the following afternoon that Joseph realized he had not yet seen Franz.

"Albert?" Joseph questioned, stepping into the security office. "Where is Franz today?"

Albert looked a little uncomfortable. Joseph's eyes narrowed. Something was obviously going on. Albert cleared his throat a few times, then, when Joseph continued to stare at him, waiting for an answer, he finally said reluctantly, "He was at the police station this morning again ..."

"Again? Why?"

Albert sighed, then said heavily, "As you know, we were all at the Opera House that night. You and I stayed with the Queen ... Franz was with King Rupert, may he rest in peace."

"And?"

"Well, it was first thought that the King must have had a heart attack."

"And?" Joseph repeated impatiently.

"They were not sure, later."

Joseph stared at him. "What do you mean, not sure?"

Now Albert looked away again and shuffled with the papers on his desk.

"Albert?" Joseph stepped closer and lowered his voice dangerously. "What are you not telling me?"

"Well ... Franz was one of the last ones to be with the King. Franz and ..." Albert swallowed again, then whispered, "your wife."

Joseph frowned, still not making the connection. "And? I know he was going to see her ..."

"The King went into the room, your wife arrived soon afterwards ... then rushed out. When Franz looked, the King was on the floor ... dead."

Joseph stopped breathing. No. No, Nan could NOT have ... she could NOT have killed King Rupert! It was IMPOSSIBLE to imagine!

"Joe? Joe!" Albert shook him.

Joseph shuddered, then looked at his friend dully. "They are blaming her, aren't they?"

"No. No, not necessarily. After all, she ... well, anyway, no. Yes, she came into the equation. But Franz was also a suspect, and, since he was the only witness of sorts, he has been down at the police station a number of times telling his story. They're still waiting for some final reports to come in, but they're not expected for a couple of weeks yet. In the meantime, most of the rumours have been kept under wraps."

"Rumours? What rumours?" Joseph was still trying to take in the information Albert had given him.

"Look, Joe, I'd rather not be the one ..." Albert began.

In a split second, Joseph had gripped Albert's shirt under his chin and dragged him closer. "WHAT ARE THE RUMOURS?"

"Th-that ... your wife ... and the king ... were ... well ..."Albert couldn't finish.

Joseph understood, and almost threw Albert from him. "How DARE you?" he snarled, fury overwhelming him. "How DARE you repeat such rubbish!"

From behind came Franz's low voice. "Joe? I'm sorry. I – it's maybe my fault ..."

Joseph swung around, his fists at the ready. Franz backed up involuntarily. He was young, and Joseph could be very intimidating in a rage. "Well?" Joseph barked. "I'm listening!"

Franz gulped, then began to speak.

O o O o O o to be continued


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

Joseph took a deep breath, then turned the key and pushed open the door. It had been only a little over a week since he had been in this house, but already it was somewhat musty-smelling. Stepping in, he let the door close behind him, but moved no further. So many memories were bombarding him: Nan laughing at him mockingly as she performed an exotic strip-tease dance for him ... within the first week of their possession of the house, the two of them making love in every room and hallway in order to have the house 'filled with love as a home should be' ... Nan's tears every month when her prayers for a child went unanswered, her refusal to accept her condition in spite of seeing a multitude of doctors, then finally her reluctant acceptance of their childlessness as she threw herself into her role as a world-renowned singer who spent months on tour, away from her husband ... nights he had spent alone, wishing she was in Genovia with him and nights they had spent together loving, arguing, making up ...

"_I checked the dressing room first, and thought it was empty. Now I'm wishing I had thoroughly checked it. Anyway, King Rupert, may he rest in peace, came in with me and said he would wait for Miss Anna ... I mean, well, your wife. I took up my post outside the door. She was there in a moment, and smiled at me as she went in. She must have known the king was there. The door closed, and I heard the murmur of voices, then some thumping noises ..." Franz had said to him that afternoon last week._

"_Thumping noises?"_

"_Yes, almost like, well ..." Franz's voice had trailed off, his face getting red._

"_Like?" Joseph had prompted again, almost impatiently._

"_Well, I remember thinking at the time that it almost sounded as if they were ... well, making love standing up against the door," Franz had finished hurriedly. Then he had plunged on. "Or maybe as if they were angry and pounding the wall ... I don't know. I don't KNOW! I only know what I heard! The rest I was just imagining!" Franz was shaking as he tried to remember those last few moments before everything began to unravel quickly. "Anyway, suddenly there was a loud scream. Not a, well, a happy scream, you know, if there is such a thing. No, this was full of horror. Froze my blood, it did! I tried to open the door, but it was locked. Then the knob twisted and the door was flung open from the inside and your wife ran out past me. That's when I saw the ... the King ... on the floor. I didn't notice where your wife went ... I ran up to the King ... his eyes were open and bulging, he had a look of shock and pain on his face, and his hands were grabbing at his chest. He was dead, sir. DEAD!" Franz had shuddered, and hadn't been able to say any more._

_Joseph, who had remained silent through the recitation, had clenched his jaw. The reasons rumours had been started had become clear, thanks to Franz' story. Joseph had felt grateful, if it could be called gratitude when nothing was good about the situation, that there had not been nearly as many rumours there might have been. The security team had obviously done its job well, and had rallied around the King, the Queen, and Franz, as they had been trained to do._

_Then Franz had pulled himself together and had continued. "I shut the door again and ran to tell you and ... and Queen Clarisse. What I didn't say was that his ... The King's ... his ... trousers were around his knees, his jacket was off and his shirt unbuttoned. But in the confusion, much of that was forgotten. The police have been questioning me, I know they suspected that I might have had something to do with his death. They've asked for my story, over and over, and Joe, sometimes I wonder if what I saw was really right or not! I was in such a state that I almost don't know what I saw, and with the police keeping on about it, I'm afraid the story is changing, and it's because I JUST DO NOT KNOW FOR SURE!" Franz had choked on the last words and had swallowed frantically, wanting to get out the rest of the story. "There is another piece to the puzzle. One of the stage crew was seen earlier in the evening, and then he disappeared, and no one has seen him since. What if he had been hiding in your wife's dressing room and had come out, murdered the King, frightened off your wife, then escaped through the window? For all we know, he snuck back in to the Opera House and ... well, pushed your wife down the stairs, to get rid of her as a possible witness! I think his name is ... Ronald? Robert? Albert, do you remember hearing about him?"_

"_I remember hearing there was someone else they wanted to question, but no, I never heard the name." Albert had said. "So you see, Joe, there are still a lot of questions that need to be answered. And unfortunately, the only two who know the whole story are both ..." he had stopped abruptly._

Now Joseph realized his fists were clenched as he relived his meeting with Franz. In the week since that conversation, the missing stage hand had not been found, and there was more and more speculation that perhaps he had had something to do with the King's death. There had also been some whispers that the missing man was somehow in cahoots with Nan, but Joseph couldn't imagine that. Still, he couldn't imagine the other possibility, either ... that his Nan and King Rupert had been having an affair. Was it really possible? Had they? He shuddered at the thought, and tried to think of alternate possibilities. But what else was there? King Rupert had attempted to RAPE Nan? Nan had begun one of her strip-teases to deliberately seduce the King for some unknown, incredible reason? Everything had been completely innocent, Nan had been changing, the King had felt suddenly ill causing Nan to loosen his clothing in an attempt to help him breathe, then had been horrified when he had died in her room so had run out screaming, and whoever had first found her body had hopes of implicating her in the King's death? Could either the King or the missing stage hand have possibly been the 'other man' Nan had once admitted to loving?

Turning in his anguish of confusion and feelings of betrayal, Joseph pounded the wall with his fists until they were bruised and he hardly had enough strength to remain standing. He slumped against the wall, and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. He couldn't do this. He just couldn't. And yet ... what choice did he have? He had to keep going. He HAD to carve a new life for himself out of the chaos surrounding him.

Then the memory of beautiful blue eyes filled with tears invaded his mind. Queen Clarisse! Joseph sat up abruptly. My God ... it was HER HUSBAND who was quite possibly the 'other person' in the potential scandal! If she ever heard even the merest hint of the rumours, what would she do? How would she feel towards HIM, knowing that it was his late wife who had been involved? She had obviously not heard a thing, at least, not when they had met that first time, as that had been when she had offered him the suite in the palace. If she had even suspected that an affair between their spouses was a possibility, there was a very good chance that she would not want Joseph around the palace. It could prove all too uncomfortable for them both. Perhaps he SHOULD resign! But then, what would he do? Where would he go? At least if he remained as the Head of Security for the Royal Family of Genovia ... in this case, Queen Clarisse, since Prince Philippe was likely to be in the hospital for a long time to come yet ... he would have a roof over his head that was free of memories of Nan, and more importantly, he would have a purpose for living.

Dragging himself up, Joseph looked again around the entrance and into the living room. Then he went slowly up the stairs to begin to gather more of his belongings together. He would only take what he wanted to keep. He would sort through Nan's things as well as his own, then arrange for someone to sell the house and contents. He did not want to have to come back here ever again.

It was while he was looking through Nan's jewellery drawer that he found it. A note in King Rupert's distinctive scrawl. Joseph sank down on the bed and deliberately read through the short missive:

_My Nan, I find I WILL be able to come to your performance tonight, so I would love to meet you in your dressing room during intermission. I am sure our meeting will be mutually satisfying. I have missed you, my special one. I am truly as happy in my relationship as you are in yours, but you and I have something together which surpasses all else, doesn't it? Until tonight. Yours, R._

For a moment, Joseph stared at the note, then he crumpled it savagely in his fist as his heart pounded. So ... King Rupert had been the other man. Joseph fiercely hoped that he was NOT resting in peace! Nan and the King had both been 'happy' with their spouses, but ALSO had something going on the side? Or, since the King had written he had missed her, was this the first meeting since their marriages? By the sounds of the King's note, Nan had been in touch with him first. How? How would a message have gotten through the tight security around the King, unless it had been encoded? What was the full story? Joseph HAD to know! He had the RIGHT to know! How could Nan POSSIBLY do this to him? It hurt; oh God, it hurt!

He ran through a gamut of emotions in quick succession: anger, confusion, even some embarrassment at the thought of what others would think of him and his inability to hold his wife's interest. He was furious at Nan, furious with the King, incredulous that either of them would do this to him and the Queen, furious with the Queen for not suspecting her husband's straying heart and furious with himself for not having been around enough to know Nan's secrets. Or HAD the Queen suspected or known about this? Was it possible that she knew and had never said a word? Had the missing stage-hand really had anything to do with that night's events, or was his disappearance a co-incidence? Joseph re-read the lines scrawled on the paper and wondered if there could possibly be an innocent explanation for the planned tryst. Was there any way Joseph could have misunderstood the meaning? He sincerely hoped so ... oh God, he prayed it was so!

Finally he smoothed out the note and read it again, taking deep breaths to slow his wildly thumping heart. Then, folding the note carefully, Joseph put it in his pocket. Perhaps one day Queen Clarisse would feel that SHE had the right to know as much as possible about this as Joseph did, however little that might be. Getting up, he looked around the room with narrowed eyes. He had never seen Nan writing in a diary, but perhaps she had one somewhere. His jaw set, Joseph began rummaging through drawers, looking in closets and opening boxes and bags. He even checked under the mattress of the bed. Somewhere there had to be answers to the hellish anguish he was experiencing right now!

O o O o O o

Two days later, Joseph still hadn't found anything that would provide some answers to the relationship between the King and his wife, although he came back to the house in what little spare time he had and continued searching. He busied himself at the palace installing some cameras around the perimeter of the grounds and some in the palace itself.

As he was programming one of the monitors one afternoon, a knock came at the door of the security office. Joseph looked up to see a messenger boy holding a large brown envelope.

"I was told to report to you, Sir," the lad said, respectfully, handing Joseph the envelope. "This is from the police, as you can see, and the report is to be read by both yourself and Queen Clarisse. When you have finished, you are asked to call the number here and the Chief of Police, the Coroner, a forensic specialist and the investigator assigned to the case wish to meet with you and the Queen privately."

Joseph unsealed the envelope and glanced inside to be sure the papers were from the proper authorities, then he nodded. "Very well." He glanced at one of the monitors and saw that the Portuguese ambassador was just taking his leave of the Queen in her office. "I will take them to her Majesty right away. You say we will each be meeting with the group? Is the Queen allowed to have someone with her? Prince Pierre is still here, I believe, and perhaps should be included in the meeting if the Queen wishes."

"That would be fine, sir. And no, you will not be meeting separately. You are to attend that meeting as well."

"Do you have any idea ...?" Then Joseph broke off. Whatever was in the report was obviously confidential, and he was sure the messenger boy would not be privy to such information. "We will look over the reports and I will inform the authorities when we are ready for the meeting."

O o O o O o

An hour later, Joseph was sitting in the Queen's office on a chair pulled up beside her at the desk, the papers spread out in front of them. Neither of them had said a word. They were both in shock. Joseph closed his eyes and pinched his nose, wishing desperately and futilely that he had looked the reports over before giving them to Queen Clarisse ... or even that he had left them with her and read them later, alone. Then he heard something snap and quickly opened his eyes to see that the Queen had snapped the pencil she had been holding in half. He shot a quick glance at her white face. Her eyes were closed, too.

"Your ..." his voice caught, and he cleared his throat before continuing, "Your Majesty, I think that perhaps ... perhaps we need some time alone ... or would you prefer that I send for Prince Pierre ...?"

"No!" Queen Clarisse's eyes flew open. "NO! Pierre cannot know this. NO ONE must know this! I ..." she swallowed, her eyes going back to the damning words on the paper. Then she continued in a whisper. "I find it almost impossible to believe ... You don't suppose ... no, there couldn't have been a mistake made, could there? Rupert was ... making love ... to An ... to your ... wife ... and the excitement obviously was too much for his heart. There was no sign of force for either ..." Her eyes closed again, and her voice trailed away as she swallowed convulsively a few times.

Joseph wondered if she was feeling as sick as he was, and eyed the waste basket. He thought maybe if he could throw up, he might, just might, feel a little better. The report had been very explicit. They had obviously come together frantically and hastily. The picture rose unwanted in his mind's eye, and he knew he was going to lose it. He grabbed for the waste basket and neatly deposited his lunch into it. Then the Queen was retching into it with him, tears streaming down her cheeks as she shook with her convulsive movements. Without thinking, Joseph put his arm around her for support.

"Done?" he whispered a moment later.

The Queen nodded slightly, and Joseph put the waste basket down, still keeping his arm around her with his head resting against hers. Both were taking deep breaths.

"What are we going to do?" the Queen asked, not moving away from him. "This can't become public knowledge!"

"No," he agreed.

"Joseph? Did you even suspect ...? I mean, I never met ... Nan. How could Rupert have known her? How could he have ...? How long were they ...? Was this the first time they ...? Oh, Joseph ..." she pulled back slightly, her lovely face distraught. "WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO?"

Joseph couldn't say anything. He had no idea what to do either. He was as much at sea as she was in this tragedy.

"Your life can be changed in a matter of hours, by people you don't even know," Queen Clarisse continued raggedly. "And now I find myself wondering if I ever really knew Rupert!"

"I feel the same about Nan," Joseph said, bitterly.

"I thought he was my best friend ..." the Queen spoke softly, as if to herself. "Now I feel so confused, so ... so ANGRY at him! That can't be right! He was my HUSBAND!"

Joseph's arm tightened around her unconsciously as he tried to reason through his own confusion and anger. "I guess I believe that we all have the right to be angry with people we love. Our anger doesn't mean we have stopped loving them. We all have to cope with life's problems in our own way. Just because our ways may be different than the ways other people might cope makes no difference."

Suddenly the Queen was crying in his arms, burying her head on his shoulder, her tears soaking through his jacket. Joseph rested his face on her hair and blinked back his own tears. How could Nan and the King have done this to them? Once again he found himself wishing the last few weeks had just been a horrible nightmare and that he would wake up and find that all was well ... that Nan was alive and in love with him, and him alone.

When Queen Clarisse's heart-wrenching sobs had finally died away to occasional hitches in her breath, she pulled away from him self-consciously, searching for a handkerchief and apologizing.

"Please don't apologize, your Majesty. You have the right to cry," Joseph said. Then, from nowhere it seemed, he found himself smiling crookedly at her and saying, "I AM your Head of Security, and if you don't feel safe crying in my arms, where can you release your tension?"

The sound that emerged from the queen's throat was half-laugh, half-sob, then she gathered her control and dignity about her like a cloak and said in a low voice, "Thank you, Joseph. I ... I don't know what I'd do without you. Please ... please don't leave me just yet. I know you might be thinking you should resign and perhaps even leave Genovia because of this, but I'm begging you, please stay. We need each other ... at least, I ... I need you."

How had she known he had been thinking of resigning and fleeing the land until his emotional being was healed? Yet how could he possibly leave her now, knowing she must be feeling exactly as he did, but unable to escape because of her position? Well, if she could be strong enough to stay, so could he. He could do no less. Together they would speak with the authorities, convince them to keep all the details confidential ... and they would find their way again to cope with this new life they so suddenly found themselves living. "I'll be here, your Majesty, as long as you need me," he promised, taking her hand and kissing it gently. Then he stood up and bowed slightly. "If you'll excuse me, I'll summon your ladies' maids and ... and retire for a few moments."

"Thank you, Joseph," she murmured, leaning back in her chair, quite overcome with all the revelations of the past hour.

O o O o O o

Two weeks later, Joseph found himself settling back into a routine at the palace. It made things so much easier for him to be using the provided suite rather than having to make his way to a separate residence every night, especially when so often crises would crop up in the middle of the night. The missing stage hand from the Opera House had returned to Genovia from France where he had been urgently summoned to his mother's deathbed. He had given his statement to the police and was now back at work. Prince Pierre had returned to his parish, being unable to stay away any longer. Prince Philippe, although still in a coma, had been stabilized enough that it had been possible to move him from the Parisian hospital he had been in since the accident back to the palace in Genovia where round-the-clock nursing was provided. Unfortunately, as the days dragged on, it did not seem as if he was ever going to recover fully.

Joseph kept a close eye on the Queen, and when it seemed the strain was too much for her, he would take her some tea and dismiss her ladies' maids and the two would talk ... about the King and Nan, about the Queen's heartbreak and devastation surrounding the condition of the crown prince ... and about small, everyday things like the disease spreading in the pear orchards in Genovia and how some funding might possibly be freed up for research into horticultural issues.

One day, at one such 'tea party', Joseph suggested that she hire an assistant. "You really need somebody who can co-ordinate all the events in your life, your Majesty. I can only do so much."

"I know. I'm sorry, Joseph, I didn't mean to drag you away from your own ..." she began.

"That's not what I meant. I am here for you, and I think you know that. But because I also have to deal with the security issues which arise, I think you need someone to assist in some of these other details. Please, let me call the Genovian Attaché Corps and ask them to send some applicants over."

Queen Clarisse sighed. "Very well. If you really think it's necessary," she said, reluctantly. After all that had happened, she found she was not dealing very well with change, and she was ... yes, she was AFRAID of what might transpire. What if she didn't like any of the people the Attaché Corps sent over? What if the person they selected turned out to be the nosy type who ferreted out the secret she and Joseph had been guarding so assiduously?

Joseph stood to leave, and took her hand, pressing a gentle kiss on it. "I do, your Majesty. For your own sake. I'll go make the call right now."

As it turned out, the Queen's fears were groundless. The Genovian Attaché Corps sent over one applicant only, a young woman in whom they had complete confidence. Charlotte shyly suggested that she work for a year on a trial basis, as if on loan from the Corps, then the position could either be made permanent or she could return to the Corps, no questions asked on either side. And so Charlotte was installed in a suite in the palace as well, her quiet efficiency making life so much easier for the Queen that Joseph congratulated himself daily on his brilliant suggestion.

O o O o O o To Be Continued ...


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4

Over the next eight months, Queen Clarisse, once known as the somewhat standoffish wife of the King, very quickly found her rightful place in the hearts of all her subjects in Genovia when she so competently and confidently took King Rupert's place in Parliament and as the ruler of the country. Only to Joseph did she ever betray her fears ... fears of not doing or saying the right thing or being the right person for the throne, fears of eroding the legacy that five hundred years of Renaldi rule had placed squarely on her shoulders, fears that the truth of the King's death would leak out and that she would be summarily removed from the throne, fears of having to watch her youngest son die. And the last was the one fear that Joseph could not help her battle. Prince Philippe was dying, there was no question of that, despite the fact that he had emerged from the coma six months previously and had tenaciously tried to fight his way back to health. Although still very weak and prone to collapse from over-exertion, the Prince had been trying to resume his former life. Just a month ago, however, he had been caught outside in the rain, and had taken to his bed that night and never gotten out of it. The doctors all agreed that his lungs were too damaged to recover, and that the rest of his body was in no shape to even consider a transplant.

Joseph was summoned to the Prince's chambers in the early hours of the morning. When he arrived, it was to find Queen Clarisse and Prince Pierre sitting side-by-side close to Prince Philippe's bed, each holding a hand of the Crown Prince, whose breath was loud and painfully slow. The Archbishop of Genovia was on the other side of the bed, his eyes closed and his lips moving soundlessly as he prayed, his hand resting on Prince Philippe's shoulder. Not two minutes after Joseph's arrival, the room became silent. The doctor and nurse moved from the shadows, then stopped at the head of the bed. The doctor's hand went to Prince Philippe's throat then his chest, then he knelt to the Queen.

"Your Majesty," he said hoarsely, "the Prince is dead."

Joseph could see her biting her lips hard trying to suppress her cries, then she turned to Prince Pierre and, when he took her in his arms, she cried bitterly ... much as she had done months before in Joseph's arms. Even now, Joseph could remember how soft she was, how pliable she had felt when he had pulled her close, how willingly she had ... Sternly he snapped himself out of his reverie. What in God's name was he thinking? The Prince was dead! Joseph's job was about to become a great deal harder.

Slipping out of the room for a moment, Joseph struggled to regain his control. He must be having all these inappropriate thoughts for the Queen simply because of being awakened so abruptly in the middle of the night, or perhaps due to the stress of having just seen another death after losing his wife only months ago ... or even because, as he had heard Franz and Albert discussing the other day, men have sex on their minds ninety percent of the time! It was just ... human nature! It was NOT that he was beginning to think of Queen Clarisse as anyone other than his Queen!

"Joseph?"

Looking up, Joseph saw the Prime Minister hurrying down the hallway, looking slightly dishevelled. "Mr. Motaz. I regret to inform you that the Prince died just moments ago."

The Prime Minister stopped abruptly for a moment, then sighed. "It was to be expected, wasn't it? Poor Prince Philippe, may he rest in peace."

Joseph nodded. "May he rest in peace, indeed," he said. Yes, he hoped the other man WOULD rest in peace, as he had not had a very easy life here on earth, unlike his father, the King, who ... Again, Joseph shut down his thoughts. That way lay madness.

"I suppose we now have more problems," Sebastian Motaz mused.

Joseph did not need to question him. He knew. With Prince Philippe possibly going to recover enough to take over the throne, Parliament had been willing to allow Queen Clarisse to continue ruling in his stead. Now, however, if Prince Pierre continued adamant about refusing to be King, Prince Philippe's young daughter was next in line for the throne. She had been born in New York City to the Prince's American ex-wife, so chances were the two still lived in the United States somewhere, but no one had the exact address. Joseph knew this, because he had already been making discreet inquiries, having seen this situation looming as the Prince's state deteriorated. Only Prince Philippe had ever been in touch with her, because of what Joseph felt was a ridiculous promise on behalf of King Rupert and Queen Clarisse to have nothing to do with the child until she was eighteen. Until that time, she would not even know her rightful last name, let alone her royal status. All she had been told was that her father and grandparents lived in Genovia – a country she had never visited.

"Well," the Prime Minister sighed again. "I should go in. Damn, I hate this part of the job! I can't imagine how Queen Clarisse must be feeling right now, losing husband and son within a year! Joseph," he turned suddenly to the Head of Security, "just how do YOU think she is able to cope? Can you envision her being able to continue ruling? Or will this throw the entire country into complete and utter disorder ... catastrophe ... anarchy ... in short, a ghastly mess?"

Not quite sure what to say, Joseph hesitated briefly, then said, "I do believe her Majesty has an inner core of strength and courage that is equal to or greater than that of any human being I have ever known. But I do believe she will need our help in order to ... keep the wolves at bay, so to speak."

"You are speaking of the von Trokens?"

Joseph nodded. "And others," he said. "At any rate, Mr. Motaz ..."

The other man interrupted him. "Please, Joseph ... call me Sebastian in private at least. I do believe you and I are equals."

A warm glow spread through Joseph at the Prime Minister's words, although he never would have thought the man would ever say such a thing. Think it, possibly. Say it? Never. Sebastian had taken him by surprise, and although it pleased him, it was also a trifle unsettling to Joseph that it had been such a surprise. Had he not been paying as much attention to other details in Genovia besides the Queen? That was most unusual for him! Then he realized the Prime Minister was waiting for him to finish his original sentence. "Thank you ... Sebastian. I was just going to say that Queen Clarisse and Prince Pierre are inside, and," he checked his watch, "should almost be finished with the Archbishop ... if you would care to go in."

"May we talk at a later date?" Sebastian asked. "I value your opinions. You're a good man, Joseph."

"I'd like that," Joseph nodded.

O o O o O o

"Amelia? Amelia! Come back here!" Clarisse called after her fast-disappearing grand-daughter, feeling frustration welling up inside her. She started to follow, then stopped and glared at Joseph as if HE were to blame when he emerged on the lawn before her. "Well, THAT went well, didn't it?" she asked, sarcastically.

Joseph tried to soothe her, but Clarisse was having none of it. Parliament had not given her much time! She NEEDED to be able to speak with Amelia, to persuade her to put herself in Clarisse's hands, to have the girl agree to become the Crown Princess she was by birth ... and she needed to do it all in a month and a half. If only the von Trokens had not begun their clamour for the throne so soon after Philippe's death! It simply wasn't fair, Clarisse thought, indignantly. How could a fifteen-year-old be expected to understand all the ramifications of her acceptance of her birthright? Yet Clarisse had to try to see that she DID understand. It was all she could do. "Will you help me, Joseph?" she pleaded with him. He had never failed her before.

Wanting desperately to say he would far rather spend time with her grandmother than the teenager, Joseph sternly suppressed his thoughts once more. "I am your Head of your Security ... and you want me to be a chauffeur and a babysitter?" Still, he had known all along that he could never resist her. No, that wasn't it at all! It was merely that it was his duty to obey every one of her commands. And so he would. Their friendship had grown by leaps and bounds over the last few months since Philippe's death. He had no intentions of destroying that now. He enjoyed it too much, all the little intimacies that no one else knew about and no one else could expect to receive from the Queen: the smiles, the gentle teasing, the light touches on the hand or the cheek ...

Queen Clarisse, Joseph reflected, was a woman of incredible form and beauty. If it were a different time, a different place, different circumstances ... had they been different people ... then perhaps he could allow himself care for her. But he could not, and the thought was utter nonsense. It would not be safe for either of them. He banished all thoughts but her safety from his mind, and began to plan how to look after both grandmother AND grand-daughter in the best possible way.

Even though he sensed her trepidation much of the time, he had repeatedly seen that she refused to surrender to it. She remained courageous and did what was necessary even when difficult. She was a remarkable woman who had withstood hardship, tragedy and loss, but who had grown through it all in strength, character and conviction. He found himself admiring her more each day. Admire. He would do well to remember that he must admire her and no more.

The time he spent with the Princess who did not want to be a princess surprised him, as well. He found himself liking the girl, very much. There was much of Queen Clarisse in her personality, although the Princess had not yet found the courage to overcome her timidity. Still, that often came with age. Joseph was certain that Princess Mia would one day be as fine a queen as her grandmother.

Genovia had been in mourning for a year now ... everyone, especially in the palace, had been wearing black. Although most of Joseph's wardrobe consisted of the colour, he was tired of seeing it on the Queen. He longed to see some of the colours she used to wear: the pinks, pale blues, and mauves. After Princess Mia's first dance lesson, when she had departed in a flurry, Joseph seized the moment. He turned the music back on, surprising the Queen, and said, "You've been wearing black for too long."

She hesitated, looking at his hand on the CD player, then raised her eyes to his searchingly. He KNEW why she wore black, although lately she had taken to wearing dark, patterned scarves as a bit of relief to the starkness of her attire. At last her face relaxed into a smile, and at that, Joseph took another breath.

He took her hand, and drew her onto the dance floor, watching how her dress flowed around her knees. They began the dance, but it was not until she turned away from him then back into his embrace, their hands joining once more, that their eyes met and held. As their bodies moved fluidly in time to the music, they continued gazing into each other's eyes, trying to read the secrets in the other's soul. Both realized with some surprise that there was a very good possibility indeed that they were not just very good, platonic friends, but that much deeper feelings lay deep within.

The unspoken bond between them was not acknowledged then, but it was enough to tide them both through the next few weeks of mishap after mishap with the young princess. Following the latest escapade, involving a young man's ego at a beach party, Joseph entered Clarisse's office when she sharply told him to come in after the Princess' departure. She was going to be meeting with the press to do damage control in a short time, but she wanted to vent some more, and Joseph, as usual, was available as a listening ear.

Turning back to her desk after he had reassured her to a point, she was stopped by his soft question.

"What else is the matter, your Majesty?"

Guiltily, Clarisse dropped her hand. She had been massaging her temple again. "Nothing."

With an impatient oath, he turned her fully to face him, and looked into her eyes. "Headache. A bad one?"

"No, it's ... yes," she admitted with a sigh. "Quite bad."

"You're all tensed up." He began to knead her shoulders. "You're tight as a spring."

"Don't ..." she managed to whisper, loving his touch.

"This is purely therapeutic, your Majesty." He rubbed his thumbs in gentle circles over her collarbone. "Any pleasure either of us gets out of it is incidental."

His fingers were strong and male and magical. It was impossible not to stretch under them. She vaguely wondered what pleasure he could be getting out of something so wonderful for her. "I'm not usually prone to headaches."

"Too much stress." His hands skimmed lightly up to her temples. She closed her eyes with a sigh. "You bottle too much up, your Majesty. Your body makes you pay for it. That is why you have aides and assistants, to take some of the pressure off YOU. Turn around and let me work on your shoulders."

"It's not ..." but her faint protest died away when he ignored her and, capably turning her back to him, his hands began to knead at the knots.

"Relax, Clarisse," His hands were so soothing that she found it hard to focus on the conversation, and didn't realize that he had called her by her name for the first time. "You know," he added, "perhaps instead of worrying about what you don't have, you should begin to be thankful for what you DO have. An intelligent, good-hearted, fair-minded grand-daughter ... one who will make as marvellous a Queen as her grandmother one day, despite all your worries ... or perhaps IN spite of them!"

Clarisse was surprised at the feelings that rushed over her at his words. Later, she would describe it as if someone had turned on the light in her mind and heart, and the little fears and worries that had been nibbling away in the darkness like mice and cockroaches hurriedly scuttled for cover. Oh yes, she had much for which to be thankful, and perhaps on the top of the list was Joseph himself. She knew her feelings for him were entirely inappropriate, and had been since they had danced together not long before. She also knew she must never act on them, but, oh, how ... how SEXY he was!

Her face flushed brilliantly at that last thought, and she forced herself to move away from his touch. If she allowed him to continue, she would be melting against him in no time, throwing herself at him, begging him to love her completely and utterly ... and scandalously. She must NOT think of him in any other terms but as her Head of Security ... she must NOT! It was her duty to Genovia, to Amelia, to the long line of Renaldis who had brought her to this position and yes, even to Rupert, to remain chaste and above reproach. Perhaps if she had loved Rupert at all, and if he had loved her, everything might have been different. She no longer hated him, indeed, she had finally forgiven him for his betrayal of their marriage vows, but she could no more consider starting blithely into another possible scandal than she could see herself cheerfully handing the country over to Baron von Troken and his greedy wife. She had to keep remembering that Joseph was a FRIEND, and could be nothing more.

They were friends, just FRIENDS, Joseph reminded himself sternly as he walked down the hallway away from her. They could be nothing else. Friends found each other so easy to talk to, friends always felt unusually comfortable together. He and Clarisse were friends, very dear, very close friends.

But when they were leaving the Independence Day Ball, Clarisse flushed with the triumph of having Princess Mia announce her intention of claiming the throne of Genovia when she came of age, their friendship received a severe jolt. Joseph walked beside her, discreetly signalled the guards away, then firmly took her hand and, after a moment, kissed it. Clarisse couldn't help herself. She smiled at him and left her hand in his until they got to the door of her suite.

"A definite triumph for you, Clarisse, my dear," Joseph said, smiling at her.

"The thanks must go to you, Joseph, for getting her here on time tonight. I ... I had thought you would not succeed. How can I ever thank you?"

"Just doing my duty, Clarisse."

"Thank you!" Impulsively she hugged him tightly.

He returned the embrace, then touched his lips to hers. In an instant, the light embrace turned into a passionate kiss, much to the surprise of both. They broke apart after a long, delicious moment and looked at each other, almost in shock. Clarisse felt like a frightened teenager, and Joseph looked as if he felt the same.

"What just happened?" he asked hoarsely.

"I-I don't know." Clarisse couldn't think, and didn't want to think. Out of nowhere, her feelings for Joseph had just taken over, and that terrified her.

"Do you want me to resign?" he asked at last, reluctant, but steadfast in his resolve. If it was what she wished, he would carry out her wishes, however much it hurt him.

"NO!"

They both looked startled by her vehemence, then the door to her suite was opened by her ladies' maid, who looked surprised to see them. "Oh! Excuse me, your Majesty! I thought I heard ..."

"I will see you tomorrow, Joseph?" Clarisse turned to Joseph, her pleading evident in her blue eyes.

Once more he could not resist her. "Tomorrow, your Majesty."

O o O o O o to be continued


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5

Joseph was remaining in the United States with Mia until her school was finished for the year. Clarisse, sitting on the plane heading back to Genovia, wasn't sure whether she was happy or upset that he wouldn't be with her for the next few weeks. Since their kiss the other night, she had been very embarrassed. Oh, she still did not want him to resign, but she felt incredibly uncomfortable when he was with her. She wanted to say something, but had no idea what to say. She wanted to have Joseph say something, but wasn't sure what she wanted to hear, either.

They had both had years of relatively happy marriages ... until the end. Then both had experienced a profound shock when their spouses had died as well as because of the WAY they had died. Out of their mutual pain and mutual agreement to keep what they knew a secret, they had become closer together. Both had been completely amazed when their long-time platonic affection had caught fire two nights ago. It wasn't as though they had been struck by a lightning bolt of love, it was not as strong as that ... but an ember, which had been glowing unnoticed probably for quite a while, had suddenly flared momentarily.

Shortly before their arrival in San Francisco, Clarisse had finally reached the stage where she could think of Rupert with some of the affection she had felt while they had been married. Neither Joseph nor Clarisse had ever had found anything out about the relationship between their spouses, or even if it had BEEN a relationship for long. After much discussion, the two had finally decided to take the compliment out of the note Rupert had sent to Nan ("I am truly as happy in my marriage as you are in yours ...") and forgive the rest, thereby being able to move on ...

Closing her eyes as she felt again the touch of Joseph's lips on hers, causing all sorts of feelings to riot through her body unimpeded, Clarisse wondered whether she should have even thought about moving on. Had she had any idea whatsoever what that might entail, she would have never allowed herself the luxury. Knowing that she had to struggle to keep the throne of Genovia for a minimum of five more years before Mia could take over meant that she had to put her own life on hold for that long. She was very much afraid that the one taste of Joseph's kiss would never be enough ... yet it had to be.

Suddenly she tensed. She had been the one to initiate their encounter! SHE was the one who had reached out to hug him ... SHE had been the one to touch her lips to his cheek in gratitude ... What if Joseph had felt that he had had no choice BUT to respond to her, and yet he hadn't enjoyed it as much as she had? What if he asked again, and more seriously this time, about the possibility of him resigning? If he really could not live with the fact that she so obviously cared for him THAT way ... then she would have to let him leave, allow him to go out of her life forever. Clarisse felt pain at the thought of losing Joseph crashing over her ...

"Your Majesty?"

Clarisse's eyes snapped open at Charlotte's timid voice. Thrusting her ridiculous fears deep inside, Clarisse deliberately relaxed her muscles before saying, "Yes, Charlotte?"

"The Prime Minister was wondering if it would be possible to have a word with you. I thought perhaps I could bring you both some tea ..."

"Thank you, Charlotte. Yes, that will be fine." Clarisse straightened up. Yes, she had to stop thinking about Joseph and focus her attention on Genovia. Too bad, too. She turned in the chair to look out the window, idly humming under her breath.

When he arrived for his meeting with the Queen, Sebastian Motaz was amused, as was Charlotte who had followed on his heels with the tea tray. The Queen was obviously missing her grand-daughter already, since she was humming, "I left my heart in San Francisco ..."

O o O o O o

"Viscount Mabrey, you have the floor."

Clarisse, sitting in the heavy ornate chair beside the Prime Minister, wondered what the Viscount was going to talk about THIS session! Ever since she had begun sitting in Parliament, the Viscount had brought one irritatingly trivial detail after another to the floor and had managed to impede the progress of any REAL work being done. Clarisse and Sebastian had discussed this very matter the other day on the plane when returning to Genovia. He had warned Clarisse that, since the Viscount had 'boycotted' the Independence Day Ball in San Francisco as a protest against moving the annual Genovian tradition to another country even for one year and in spite of the extenuating circumstances surrounding the change which had been previously agreed upon by Parliament the one session the Viscount had missed, there would no doubt be some repercussions at the next session. She was about to find out.

"Honourable members of Parliament, I'm sure that all of you gentlemen are in agreement with me when I say that ... oh, I DO beg your pardon, your Majesty ... all of you gentlemen and ... should I call you lady, which I am thinking you are not, or am I to address you as simply your Majesty?" The Viscount did not wait for an answer to his faintly sarcastic question, and ignored the 'ooohs!' that passed around the room at his thinly veiled insult of the Queen. "It is SO hard to know just what to say at times like this, when the sacrosanct atmosphere of the Parliament is ... not defiled, of course," and he bowed to the Queen with a thin smile which resembled nothing more than a grimace, "but certainly is not the same as in the days when good King Rupert, may he rest in peace," again the Viscount waited until everyone had repeated the proscribed saying, "was seated in the chair which his ... widow ... struggles so valiantly to adequately fill."

Clarisse leaned back and, bending her head and covering her mouth as though sneezing, contrived to speak to Sebastian in an undertone. "Tell me, Sebastian, have I just been insulted?"

"A number of times, your Majesty. Shall I ...?"

"No. Let him speak."

The Viscount was continuing, waving his hands theatrically as he spoke grandly. "You all most assuredly are aware of my great concerns when it comes to allowing women, even queens," again he bowed perfunctorily to Clarisse, "into these august, even venerable, sessions. As my late wife's revered ancestor, King Chevalier so aptly advised his son, 'A man of sense only trifles with women, plays with them, humours and flatters them, as he does with a sprightly and forward child; but he neither consults them about, nor trusts them with, serious matters.' And, with the recent escapade in the United States of America, that is so very obvious! Never before has the Genovian government had to resort to celebrating their national holiday in another country! It's absurd to have even countenanced such an outrage, in my opinion! Ah yes, but we DO have a princess, now. A pretty little fifteen-year-old child who is to be schooled by ... why, none other than our darling Queen Clarisse, a woman who so very recently has added her charm and grace to our chambers."

Clarisse's hands were clenched tightly enough that her fingernails were digging into the palms. How DARE the man belittle her or Mia ...! She made a slight movement as if to rise to the Viscount's baiting, but Sebastian lightly touched her arm in their signal. Torn between rising and icily demolishing Mabrey with some well-chosen words or listening to Sebastian tell her she must keep control of herself and thereby of Parliament, she finally conceded and leaned back nonchalantly.

"Wait, your Majesty. See what transpires."

Lord Crowley was on his feet in an instant. "Do you mean to say, Viscount, that the Queen is in any way a detriment to our discussions here?"

"Not at all," Viscount Mabrey replied smoothly. "She is a very decorative part of things, and always has been."

"I have always thought Queen Clarisse to be more intelligent than many of the Parliamentarians on these benches," observed Lord Harmony quietly.

"The Queen is not merely decorative!" blustered Lord Crowley. "Since she has been sitting with us, look at what we have accomplished! Why, we have ... er ... um ... there's the ... well, perhaps the ..." his voice trailed away, bewilderment showing on his face.

"I rest my case." the Viscount said smugly. "Yes, we have determined that the school year is to consist of no less than 180 days. Yes, we have also passed a law saying that the music in the public square must end by ten p.m. on weekdays. Very beneficial laws indeed, gentlemen, for children ... and music haters. I MUST register my protest for having given the little princess time to 'find herself' and decide that yes, she 'DOES' want to 'play at our house' before taking on the throne ..."

"It's only right that Princess Amelia come to live in Genovia to learn from Queen Clarisse!" Lord Fricker stood up, looking bewildered to find himself on his feet. "Isn't it?"

"Well, she IS only fifteen. She plans to come here to live, and to bring her mother along with her. The same mother who, as it happens, REFUSED to come to live in Genovia when her husband was recalled ... her husband, Prince Philippe, the Crown Prince! And now we are welcoming her? I find this unconscionable! I, for one, greatly object to allowing the woman to raise the child we hope to be our next queen! If the little princess requires her mother, it is MY opinion that she REMAIN with her mother, in the United States, until she is all grown up!" the Viscount thundered.

Clarisse held her breath. She had NEVER expected such a reaction ... even from the Viscount! Oooh, the man was lower than anything that crawled on its belly ... Only the Prime Minister's gentle touch of reassurance on her arm kept her in her seat.

Again Lord Crowley stood up. "Are you saying the Princess should not even VISIT Genovia, the land of her father's birth?" Others in Parliament murmured approvingly.

"Oh, she may VISIT, of course! Even with her mother! But I would expect that ..."

The Viscount Mabrey stopped abruptly when Lord Palimore, the senior Member of Parliament and former Prime Minister came to his feet and banged his cane for attention. The elderly man looked keenly around the room, then said slowly and succinctly, "The Parliament of Genovia has already made its decision with regard to the Princess Amelia being the heir to the throne. She will be given a choice with regards to her place of residence for the next five years. In that time, it is to be expected that Queen Clarisse will have taught the princess enough that she will be ready to rule. At that time, when Princess Amelia is twenty-one, we will make our decision about whether or not we will accept her Queen Amelia of Genovia. We do NOT want to show a divided government to the country as that only allows upstarts like the von Trokens to have hope that eventually they will be able to gain enough support and power in Genovia to take over the throne. Why, the Baron is not even a Member of Parliament! Did you know," and he turned to the man beside him to speak conversationally, a signal for many of the others to whisper to their neighbours, "did you know that he keeps applying to become a member, as did his father and his grandfather before him? In all these years, none of their bids were ever successful, and quite frankly, I cannot see that ..."

Sebastian Motaz leaned forward and banged the gavel on the desk. "Gentlemen! Gentlemen, please!"

Clarisse felt a tension headache creep over her, and wished vainly for Joseph to relieve the stress. She could tell already that it was going to be a very, very, very long five years.

O o O o O o

It was one of the very rare moments these days that Clarisse had a scrap of free time and had escaped early to the gazebo for a pre-arranged meeting with Joseph. She arrived to hear him singing softly as he strummed his guitar. Hanging back when she realized he hadn't noticed her presence, she listened to the words of his song.

_My dear Clarisse,_

_You are terribly blessed._

_But it's your heart of gold_

_I love the best._

_And that will be your crowning glory,_

_Your whole life through._

_It'll always be your crowning glory,_

_The most glorious part of you._

_I'm one who's right._

_Your faithful knight._

_I'll be honest and true._

_Will believe in you, too._

_And prize your heart of gold the way all do._

_I know that will be your crowning glory,_

_Your whole life through._

_My love will see that it's your crowning glory,_

_The most glorious part of you!_

_That will be your crowning glory,_

_Darling, when they tell our story,_

_They'll call your heart of gold your crowning glory,_

_The most glorious part of you._

Clarisse's heart began to beat very quickly. How could she not understand what he was saying through his song, even though they had never repeated nor spoken of the kiss they had shared two years previously? "Joseph," she said softly, coming up to stand before him. He quickly moved to put the guitar down, but she put out her hand. "No, please, Joseph. Play it again for me. I want to hear it again. You wrote it, didn't you?"

"Yes," Joseph admitted gruffly, not looking at her. "It's the first time I've written a song since Nan's ..." and he stopped.

"It's lovely ... Please, play and sing it again?"

After some hesitation, he nodded, then began to sing. When he finished the sound of the guitar died away. After a moment, he looked up at Clarisse. Tears had formed in her eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered huskily. "Thank you, Joseph. I ... I don't really know what to say ..."

He took a deep breath. "Clarisse, I had no illusions that I could fall in love again at my age. I mean, with Nan, until the end that is, I really felt as if I had as much happiness and love as I had a right to expect. And now, well, I'm frankly amazed at this late-in-life love. I thought myself too old for anything like this. It has surpassed my wildest dreams."

Clarisse caught her breath. "Joseph ..."

Not finished and not wanting to be interrupted, Joseph continued speaking, his eyes on hers. "There is something about the rejuvenating and miraculous power of love. New love doesn't feel any different in your sixties than before, does it? I still feel sixteen at times, and had never thought I would ever feel this way again. There is something life-affirming about the leap of faith and trust it takes to fall in love at any age, but when the package includes grey, thinning or even LOST hair, creaky joints, a lifetime of experience that includes tragedy, loss and heartbreak and a potentially short time together as illness and age take their toll, that leap is all the more inspiring. I now believe that older couples, as compared to younger ones, have a deep sense of understanding for the richness of life, with all of its joys and sorrows, and we embrace it. The power of love is still calling us to take a risk."

Putting her hand on his gently, Clarisse nodded. "Yes, Joseph, we ARE still being called to take a risk. But Joseph ... we ... we cannot take it yet. I'm ... I'm really so very sorry ..."

He looked away, then bent to put his guitar back in its case. "Well, that's that, then. I suppose you want my resigna ..."

"JOSEPH!" Startled, his eyes snapped back to hers. Hers were flashing with anger as she stood up. "Please stop talking about resignation, once and for all! You know very well that is NOT what I would EVER want!"

"Your Majesty ..."

Catching sight of a gardener, Clarisse became very formal. "Thank you, Joseph. I trust you will heed my instructions. And ..." her voice softened, "And I DO thank you, once again. Please, may I have a copy?"

"It shall be on your desk as soon as possible," he said.

"Thank you." She started down the steps, then turned suddenly. "Joseph! Remember I was asked to sing at Mia's eighteenth birthday party next month? Do you ... do you think you could change the words so that I could sing THAT song for her? And will you teach it to me?"

"I'd be honoured, your Majesty."

"Really?" she sounded a little skeptical. "Then why can't you look at me when you say that?"

He laughed at last, and, rising, turned and swept her an elaborate bow. "I should be most honoured to write the song for you to sing at the Princess' birthday party, and more than delighted to teach it to you."

O o O o O o

"Grandma? Thanks again for singing at my party. That was a really beautiful song!" Mia hugged her grandmother fiercely.

Clarisse hugged her back, feeling much more comfortable with the gesture than she had two years previously. "I thought it was beautiful, too. Joseph wrote it."

"Joe? OUR Joe? REALLY?"

"Yes. 'Our' Joe," Clarisse smiled, loving the sound of the word 'our', although NOT the name. She STILL preferred to call him Joseph!

"Hey, Grandma, I know it's none of my business, but is Joe your boyfriend?"

Clarisse looked horrified. "Certainly not! Women of my age, and in my position, do not have ... boyfriends!"

"What do you have, then? Beaux? Admirers? LOVERS?" Mia teased her.

"MIA!"

"Just kidding, Grandma. Where'd you say you were going today?"

"I have a meeting with the Mayor of San Francisco."

"Is he going to ask you how many members you've added to the Order of the Rose lately?" Mia grinned.

Laughing, Clarisse shook her head. "Hardly. Oh, that WAS a fun day, wasn't it, Mia?"

"It sure was. Well, see you tonight for supper. I can't believe you're going home tomorrow already! Coming, Shades?"

Clarisse watched her grand-daughter saunter out of the Genovian Embassy, Albert at her heels. Joseph had decided that he would remain Clarisse's driver and Head of Security during their stay in San Francisco, so had had Albert come over from Genovia to be Princess Mia's driver for the duration of their stay. Mia had taken one look at the other man and promptly nicknamed him 'Shades'. Shaking her head, Clarisse turned to see Joseph smiling at her.

"Ready, your Majesty?"

"As I'll ever be," she sighed.

"I understand there is a quaint café on the ground floor of the government office building. We can stop there for a beverage. I believe you would be interested in their hot cider."

Clarisse raised her eyebrows. "Hot cider?"

"Mmhmm. But I won't give it away. You'll see when we get there."

Traffic in the San Francisco streets was snarled that afternoon, however, so by the time Joseph had parked the limousine, it was almost time for Clarisse's appointment with the mayor. Hustling her into the building through the closest door, Joseph told her that he didn't want her to even see the NAME of the café until they were ready to go in.

"I would have thought there would be more people around inside considering how many cars were out on the streets!" Clarisse commented as they got into an empty elevator and Joseph pushed the ninth floor button.

"The mayor would have arranged for your visit at as convenient time as possible, I'm sure." Joseph said.

The doors closed, and they began to rise. Just past the seventh floor, Clarisse was jolted violently. She staggered back against Joseph who grunted as he lost his own balance when the entire elevator trembled, shook harder, then screeched to a stop as the lights went out. Terrifyingly enough, the shaking didn't stop even when the upward motion ceased.

"Wh – What's ..." Clarisse tried to speak, but the shaking was too severe. She turned in Joseph's arms and clung to him. If she was going to die, she wanted it to be in Joseph's arms!

After what seemed an eternity of loud noises and thundering crashes with the elevator box pitching them back and forth across the expanse of the small box, there was a moment of absolute and utter stillness. Then the silence was broken by the wail of sirens both near and far, and faint shouts reached Clarisse's ears.

"Are you all right, Clarisse?" Joseph asked urgently, his hands moving over her in an effort to ascertain her position.

"An earthquake?" she almost squeaked, and just then another shock sent them to the floor, the elevator almost undulating as if riding up and down some very large waves. Clarisse clutched Joseph closer, pressing her face into his shoulder.

Joseph took the brunt of the fall, and tried to protect Clarisse as the elevator shifted again, ending up tilted on a slight angle. This time when the shaking stopped, the noise never did. Mercifully, at that moment faint lights appeared around the panel of buttons on the wall by the elevator door and along the sides of the elevator. "Emergency generator appears to have kicked in," he said, "but it's not very likely the elevator will be working any time soon."

"You mean, we're trapped in here?"

"For now. We're just lucky the elevator didn't ..."

More aftershocks came and Joseph broke off when Clarisse whimpered and tried to creep even closer to him. "Every time the elevator shakes, I feel very, very dizzy!" she whispered.

"But otherwise you are not hurt?" Joseph asked again.

"N-no," she said, trembling almost as much as the elevator appeared to be. "What about you? I fell on YOU, didn't I?"

"I'd gladly sport more than a few bruises to keep you safe, Clarisse. You know you mean more to me than anything else in the world!"

Suddenly, very suddenly, the atmosphere in the confined elevator changed from terror to a charged anticipation. No longer was Clarisse aware of the shaking caused by the earthquake. She was more attuned to the earth-shaking reality of Joseph's kiss when he captured her lips with his. Once again, Joseph was saving her. Every nuance of pressure from his lips, every breath he breathed into her mouth made her feel that much more alive. This was how it should have been, this wanting, this needing, this compulsion to press even closer to him.

She found herself murmuring to him, wanting him to know more of her than anyone else had ever known, wanting to share something of herself that she had never spoken of. "Rupert treated me, for the most part, as a china doll. I was someone to dress up and have on his arm at the appropriate social functions ... someone to be kept in a glass display case. He would never believe that I was just like everyone else. I have the same needs, same fears ..." she took a deep breath and continued, "I want someone to really touch ME ... because I'm me, just Clarisse ... not me, the supposedly beautiful-for-her-age Queen of Genovia." She watched the expression on his face, dreading a response that would make her feel like a thing instead of the person she was. She didn't want to be told how perfectly her body was shaped, or that he had never seen anyone more beautiful. She wanted someone to tell her that he loved her for HER ... for her caring, her quick intelligence, her personality ...

"Actually, I would not particularly want to kiss the Queen of Genovia, however lovely she might be and is! No, I want to kiss Clarisse ... the woman I have grown to adore more than I ever thought possible again."

Clarisse chuckled, but it sounded strained. "Oh, Joseph!"

He could feel her tension and knew that tears were just below the surface. His kisses intensified. Clarisse wrapped her arms around Joseph's neck, and as the elevator continued shaking with the aftershocks of the earthquake, they rode the wild storm the way they would from now on for the rest of their lives ... together.

"I never imagined finding being trapped inside an elevator during an earthquake to be so ... so beautiful," she said at last, drawing away reluctantly.

"Love makes it beautiful," Joseph murmured.

"Then I am glad that I could know this moment with you."

Joseph held her tightly again when the elevator renewed its shaking, and she clung to him as though she feared to let go. "I will keep you safe," he reminded her.

"I know." She fought to hold back the tears that were threatening. She didn't want to think of their uncertain future. "Joseph, I have only ever loved you. Because of you, I know love's joys and pleasures ..."

He hated to say it, but he had to. "Rupert?"

"I grew very fond of him after a time, and I believe he grew fond of me, too. But no ... neither of us ... truly loved." Then she sighed. "At least, I didn't truly love ... until you."

He could do nothing less than kiss her again for that remark. Joseph wanted to stay secluded in the elevator car with Clarisse forever, keeping her in his arms and loving her. But there was her reputation to consider – the reputation of the royal family of Genovia at stake. No one must ever suspect that anything romantic was between the Queen and her Head of Security. Then, along with the almost constant small tremors, they heard a sudden thump, then a whirring sound, the elevator straightened and began to move slowly again.

Joseph glanced at his watch. Only twenty minutes... but it had been twenty of heaven that had felt like an eternity in two minutes. He chuckled at his mixed thoughts. Seeing Clarisse's glance at him, he said softly, "I can't decide if we just shared a fantastic eternity, or an incredible two minutes. I love you, Clarisse, make no mistake about that."

"Joseph, I love you, too ... you MUST know that. But ..." she bit her lip.

His hand covered hers. "Some day we will be able to love each other openly. I know that day is not yet."

Then the doors were opening and they were freed.

O o O o O o

After refusing to meet with reporters until later, Joseph managed to get Clarisse back to the Genovian Embassy, which was in an area not as badly hit by the earthquake. A frantic Charlotte met them with the good news that Princess Mia and her mother were both fine and that the Princess wanted Queen Clarisse to phone as soon as she came in.

Clarisse made her phone calls, talking to Mia, then the mayor who was obsequiously trying to apologize as well as set up an appointment for the following day to complete his business, then Sebastian Motaz in Genovia who had heard news of the earthquake. She tidied up, and went down for supper ... still feeling a little dizzy and rather nervous every time the ground trembled. But she tried not to let herself even think of how she had spent the time while trapped in the elevator.

That night after supper, she agreed to meet with reporters, and fielded their questions. "How did it feel to be trapped?" "Were you scared?" "What were you thinking about?" and by far the worst question, "How did you pass your time?" Finally escaping them, Clarisse, rather bewildered, turned on her heel and made her way back to her suite. Everyone had complimented her on her appearance this evening, some rather slyly. What was different about her? Had fright turned her hair white, or something? She had to find out. In her room, staring into the mirror with critical eyes, Clarisse was shocked. She DID look different! Although her hair had not gone white, her blue eyes were sparkling, her colour was high, and her skin was positively glowing! There was an air of sensuality about her when she reached up to brush a strand of hair over her ear in an almost unconscious gesture.

As realization sank in, Clarisse stared at her reflection in awe. It actually SHOWED! She was a woman in love ... deeply in love with Joseph. He was unlike any other man she had ever known, and she felt like a complete fool for ever doubting that this kind of deep, all-consuming love existed. It was physically visible that she was in love ... but thank God no one knew, indeed must ever know, WHO she loved. As long as she was the ruling Queen of Genovia, no one could suspect that she loved and was loved. Their love MUST remain in the shadows.

O o O o O o O o

By the next evening, the tabloids had articles and pictures. One of them, the San Francisco Buzz, showed three pictures of Joseph and Clarisse ... one inside the café, and two as they stood just outside. Under the headline GENOVIAN QUEEN ENDANGERED AGAIN? and the smaller subtitle Queen Rescued After Being Trapped in Elevator by Earthquake! What Next? the article read:

Before heading to the airport on her flight home, Queen Clarisse of Genovia was seen at the Golden Pear Café, sharing a final moment with her Head of Security, who was also trapped for a couple of hours by yesterday's earthquake which shook parts of the city and caused widespread power outages. It is to be hoped that the Queen will not hold our fair city responsible for the terrifying time she must have experienced before being rescued from the inoperable elevator. Speculation has also arisen as to why the Queen was in the vicinity a second time. The office building which houses the Gold Pear Café ALSO houses the Marriage Bureau. Could it be that the very attractive royal widow has lost her heart and is contemplating ... (Story to be continued on Page Five ...)

THE END!


End file.
